


Feverish

by QClueingForLooksQ



Category: The Hunchback of Notre Dame (1996)
Genre: Alternate Ending, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-11
Updated: 2019-06-11
Packaged: 2020-04-24 17:28:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19178017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QClueingForLooksQ/pseuds/QClueingForLooksQ
Summary: I wrote this after reading Validity_For_Dissonance 's"Fever" as an alternate ending. I hope you enjoy! And do go read her story! It's very lovely.





	Feverish

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Validity_For_Dissonance](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Validity_For_Dissonance/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Fever](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15476868) by [Validity_For_Dissonance](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Validity_For_Dissonance/pseuds/Validity_For_Dissonance). 



“But do you not think me worthy of torture?” she presses, abandoning decorum and the safe shores of propriety. “You seek me for months, threatening me and spurning me, yet when the chance comes for your threats to be realized, you refute them!”

He locks his jaw and moves so that he towers over her. “Have I ever said a word about torture? Do you think my words void? Make not a mistake, I think you a temptress and a sorceress all the same! You make Hell your eternal abode by refusing to repent! But it is God who shall deliver His judgment upon you, and not a sinful, lustful mortal!”

There is a glimmer of something other than vehemence in his fiery eyes and he suddenly retreats, leaving the shivering, frightened girl in her spot as he staggers towards the window, raking a shaky hand through his hair.

Then, coldly and distantly, he says, “Leave. Leave and never come back.”

Esmeralda stares at him for a few, long moments, her hands still clasped against her heart. Then her dark brows grow taut and she takes a defiant step forward. "No..." she replies softly, her lips in a delicate frown. She winces slightly at his sudden turn to look at her, but she stands her ground. "I-I want to understand," she pushes him.

The Archdeacon watched her, his expression heavy-laden with misery before he shook his head and looked back to the window. "...I could never tell you. Please," he begged her quietly, closing his eyes. "Leave me be..."

The gypsy girl pressed her lips together firmly at his words, the ache in his heart tangible in the air. Claude's ears burned when he heard her bare feet pad towards him, tentatively as if he were an easily frightened cat she was trying to approach with a bowl of milk. "Do not come any closer!" he barked angrily, but his eyes moistened as he heard his voice catch. She had only paused for a second, he had heard. But the sound soon started again, and just as she was close enough to touch him, he turned around as if burned, his hands gripping the window sill painfully tight, eyes wide and chest heaving as he watched her in something akin to fear.

She cocked her head lightly at this before something appeared to click in her mind, and her eyes crinkled with a small smile. "Ah...I understand now..." she whispered softly.

Her hand reached for him and he cried out a quick, "Don't!" But as soon as her fingers made contact with his cheek, any further words died on his tongue. His skin was burning up, she felt it. He looked so frightened...

Gently, her full hand rested against his gaunt cheekbone, and a little amusement played in her chest as she saw his eyes flutter shut, his lips parted as he attempted to keep breathing. Esmeralda smiled more as she slowly felt his resistance leave him, evident by the way his head moved into her touch. Gaining more confidence, she allowed one foot to step between his and her body slowly pressed against his. At this, his eyes were open and desperate again, and his hands were on her shoulders trying feebly to push her away. "Wait- stop, please-" he whimpered.

Esmeralda gave him a pitying look before her hands rose and gently covered his. He watched her with wild eyes as she picked them off her shoulders and slowly placed them gently on her small waist. Still feeling him resist, she pushed his hands to make them close firmly around her, and a visible shudder accompanied with a small groan left him, eyes closing again as he dropped his head in defeat. He couldn't hold back much longer. She would be his doom...

Once more, her hands were free to do as they wished, and she ran them up his chest slowly. The touch burned him, but he took a deep breath to push into the sinful feeling, pleasure rolling through him in slow waves. Her hands continued up the back of his neck, lightly massaging the tight muscles there- a quiet moan told her that she was doing the right thing. Her fingers brushed over the short hair at the back of his neck, soft and prickly all the same, before she finally grasped his face between both hands.

His eyes slowly opened at this, blinking drowsily as if he had just woken from a dream, his eyes barely registering anything anymore. He looked at her questioningly as if to ask why her ministrations had stopped, but his eyes widened when he saw her drift closer. Before he could conjure up a protest, she had pressed her soft, full lips to his, and he stood for a moment in utter shock, watching this- this- His mind gave up halfway through his thoughts and his eyes closed of their own accord as he melded into her embrace, his lips beginning to work in ways he had never imagined. His hands tightened on her waist and he caught a gasp in between her lips sending a delicious feeling trembling through him. His kisses slowly became more confident as he pulled her closer, slowly losing himself to her spell, and an audible moan left him as he felt her nibble on his lower lip. It was sinful. It was against his vows.

It was glorious.

Her kisses were gentle, prodding, and soft. She didn't want to scare him away but she couldn't help playing with him a bit. Otherwise, she was being slow with the poor man. He probably couldn't handle much foreplay. Yet, suddenly, he surprised her by his arms sweeping around her rear to hoist her up onto his waist as he deepened their kiss. A cry left her in shock before she giggled in delight, wrapping her legs around him as he clung to her desperately. He broke the kiss to press his face into her neck, nuzzling into the scent of her hair as he took ragged unsteady breaths. "Esmeralda..." he whispered, and her hands came to lock about his neck, one straying to play with those lovely baby hairs once more.

"Claude?" she teased back with a happy smile, but it faded as she felt herself slowly lowered back to the ground. Her feet alighted silently, and as Frollo leaned back, her eyes were full of question. He looked to her forlornly, his face flushed and hair mussed. He blinked and met her eyes.

"I cannot do this...please do not tempt me further..." he told her gently. A pit formed in her stomach and she frowned, her own eyes moistening at his refusal of her.

"Why?" she pressed, her brows furrowing as she felt herself start to get a bit angry. "Do you not want me?"

"Of course I do-" he choked out before closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. "But I made a vow...a vow to God-"

"Hasn't that already been broken?" she pushed, her hands pressing against his chest as a reminder, but he shook his head, grasping her hands gently and lowering them.

"Celibacy pertains to..." he swallowed looking to the ground. "Intimacy. The final step of...intimacy," he grimaced and closed his eyes again. "We mustn't continue. I do not trust my resolve to endure any of this much longer..."

Esmeralda's anger dissipated slowly as she listened to this. He did want her. But he honorably kept his promises, no matter what it cost him... If she had to feel anger, she could only direct it at the church- that, she decided not to do. She lowered her head to look at the ground. "...there is no way out of it?" she questioned softly.

A sigh left him and he opened his eyes to look at her feet as well. "I could leave the church...but I do not wish to forgo my life's work. This is what I dedicated myself to-" he looked to her imploringly.

Her eyes raised and met his beautiful, granite ones. Her shoulders sagged before she took a breath and nodded. "...I understand." She looked back to him before she reached her hand up and ran it through his hair once more, his eyes closing in reverence as he pressed into her touch. She frowned sadly. "...but if you change your mind," she added in a whisper. "...find me." She stood on tiptoe and pressed a long, soft kiss to his lips, which he returned hesitantly but mournfully. As she pulled back, their eyes met, and she fixed his hair affectionately. Then she fully released him and gave him a sad smile. "...I'll be waiting for you..."

And then she was gone.

The Archdeacon would watch her dance from his window. She had taken to performing in a corner that was easily seen from his room, and with her constant glances upwards, he knew it had been on purpose. He would take in her fluid movements, the faint singing that could be heard at times in a language he could not understand, her pause at the end of every show to look up at him. Every night, he prayed for guidance in what he should do. Every night, he prayed for forgiveness of his want to leave this church despite its mission. Every night, he prayed for something- _anything._ A sign.

Then one day, a promising young man was appointed to him as a student. For approximately three years, he tutored him. For approximately three years, the Archdeacon immersed himself in his own private studies. And approximately three years later, Claude Frollo was just that. No longer was he a man of the cloth. Now, he would search for a new title; the title of doctor.

He watched her as she danced, and though he was now closer, he could see she hadn't aged a day. She was just as beautiful as the day he bade her adieu. The door to his carriage opened, and he stepped out, Esmeralda's performance slowing to a halt as her eyes landed on his. He knew she had noticed his lack of robes and the rather normal looking carriage behind him. He knew she was questioning how a man like he felt comfortable abandoning his post, his call in life. But he simply smiled and waved her on to continue. He had settled his differences with the Lord. He could still minister outside the church.

Besides, he had waited for her for three years. What was one more dance?


End file.
